A/N: ** Please read ** Hey! So, I was bored and wrote this a bit ago. I'm not much of a writer, but I thought I'd give it a shot. This is my first fanfiction I've ever submitted. Written on and off for a few years on different fandoms and shared with friends who've told me I was pretty decent. I've been reading into just about anything that catches my interest on this site for several years on another account and created a new one just for writing a few of my own. I'm a slow writer, so updates might be a week or so in between, but with lots of reviews, I'm sure I can write faster.So anyway, comments, corrections, suggestions, flames, death threats, etc. are all welcome! Enjoy, and review!

** If you ignored the above, you really need to read this ** This takes place a while after Shrek 4 where the viewer is left to believe that Rumpelstiltskin's left hanging in the cage outside Shrek's house. We never did find out how long his punishment was, and if at all he was moved to a more suitable dungeon. So... yeah. I ran with that. It centers around Rumpelstiltskin and might only be a handful of chapters long. Not sure if it's going to be a romance, but it smells like one so far.

Disclaimer: I don't own Shrek, Dreamworks or y'know... whatever.

Looking out for the small details in life is generally good practice, since it greatly reduces the risk of surprises. While some surprises are pleasant, most would consider them a hindrance. Surprises like... True Love, for example. So powerful, it can overcome all those trifling little details. It magically erases all the troubles in life, as if they had never happened. It breaks free of all restraints. Free of rules. Tears contracts in two. Rips reality into shreds at the first, chaste kiss.

Null and void. Exit clauses.

But the thing with True Love... well... it's as rare as rocking horse shit. He was so confident in his cleverness, he didn't think the details would be such a big deal. The details were just that; details that had to be written. It did cause some worry; if only as a precaution since it was hard to imagine anyone falling in love in twenty-four hours. Not the 'I love vanilla ice cream' sort of love, that's easy enough to accomplish in a short span of time... but True Love... it was something he had underestimated. And it had cost him dearly.

And as it went, Rumpelstiltskin had plenty of time on his hands to entertain such brooding thoughts what with all the hours with nothing to do while serving his punishment in a cage for an undetermined amount of time. At first, he had raged and screamed against the bars. Shouted threats and insults to the leering tourists. Even pissed on one of them, although looking back on it, it did more harm then good since it was particularly windy that day. But as time passed, his anger cooled away; dampened by the endless days of his incarceration. Only a bitter taste was left in his mouth; a simmering hate where he wouldn't be bothered to waste the energy with rude gestures at those filthy ogres anymore. He could no longer recall just how long he had been imprisoned and only noticed the passing of time with the seasons.

How long has it been? It felt as if it were only yesterday he had lived a whole life in Shrek's alternate reality full of luxury and power. Wealth and fine dining. Women and wine. Parties that would stretch long into the night where everyone would do anything just to earn his favor or a seat by his side. It was intoxicating, it was bliss, it was his own dream come true. And it was all undone in a day with the rising sun and now... nothing. No more wigs. No more parties with eloquent meals. No more power. Nothing but cold steel, mosquitoes, and jeering laughter through the bars of his cage. And even then, the tourists have dwindled after the insults had lost their luster.

On the best of days; which weren't many, the only small pleasure he'd have is the rain sleuthing down his scalp to give him some relief from the heat of the swamp. His meals consisted of hardened bread and water. Fruits and vegetables were now a delicacy when tourists felt the need to stop and pelt him with it. But now, he is... forgotten. The tourists no longer come to laugh and a small part of him can't help but miss it. It was something in the nothing of all he had left to him. Now his name is nothing more than a hazy memory, rusted away along with the bars that entrap him.

His only company over the many weeks and probably many, many months... are those filthy ogres; his only jailors. At first, Shrek would only come by to gloat and have a few laughs on his way to the outhouse and his wife would give him his meals in stony silence. Then as time passed, a few comments. Some small talk. Eventual conversation. No matter how much Rumpelstiltskin loathed the pair of them and their sniveling brats... he couldn't help but swallow his pride and even look forward to further conversation since it kept him from going insane. You've got to hold onto something when you've nothing else.

If it took ages for Shrek to say more than a few words to him, it look twice as long for Fiona. You'd think with those filthy animals she calls children, she wouldn't bat an eye at bringing him his meals occasionally with a smile, but that was not the case. She was standoffish and cold; as if it were a chore best left undone. It was the only thing that reminded him of the Fiona he used to know in his other life. The proud, strong warrior that would often upset his plans with her revolutionary plots. His... opponent. She made it quite obvious that she despised him, so it came as a sudden shock to him when she finally spoke one morning when she brought him his meager breakfast nearly one year after his incarceration.

"What was I like?" she asked suddenly, her hand still gripping his goblet.

"Sorry?" He blinked at her dumbly, voice hoarse from lack of use. It was the first time she had ever spoken to him and for a moment, he doubted his hearing. Being locked up in a cage all the time has that effect.

"The... the other Fiona. The one you knew," her face was set hard, brows furrowed together in a familiar way he could recall perfectly... maybe if he squinted hard enough, he could possibly see the similarities...

No. This Fiona was so very different. Hell only knows how much time he's spent watching them all to know them well enough; bored out of his mind. This Fiona was full of easy laughter and spirit whereas the other only had cold looks and calculating resentment. Where this one saw things with the love of life, the other only saw anarchy and battle grounds. It was hard to decide which one was the stronger... and which one he loathed more.

"You were..." he paused; wondering what to say. That never happened. He always knew just what to say, what lies or petty compliments to spin and sucker people into his deceit. Had he forgotten how to play his game?

"She – was... strange," he said at last to her puzzled expression. He didn't feel the need to further explain himself. She can make of it what she wants, give him his shit for food, and go the hell away for all he cares.

"Strange?" Fiona echoed with a frown; nose all scrunched up to one side. "That's all?"

"That's all I -" and here Rumpelstiltskin paused again; struck with the old fervor. It's just like riding a bike after all. " - unless... we can strike a deal, hmm?"

"Do I look stupid to you?"

He could hope.

"No – no, contracts. I'm not asking for much," he rushed with a practiced smile before she would leave him hanging... quite literally. "I'd just like a nice, hot meal."

"And what if you're lying?"

"I'll give you my word tha-"

"Your word counts for nothing," she cut him off with a roll of her eyes.

Right at that moment, Rumpelstiltskin was taken aback with a sudden wave of déjà vu. Once upon a time, in another world much like this one, Fiona had said the very same thing.

"Really?" he drawled with mild interest. "Last I heard, I always gave everyone exactly what they wanted. I helped people."

"Oh sure – at a price that suited you," she snorted, hand placed at her hip in a good impression of the woman he used to know and Rumpelstiltskin couldn't help but wonder vaguely if she ever lets her hair down... "That's not helping, that's swindling."

"You can't make something from nothing," he shrugged and broke bread; no point putting off his meal because she felt the need to rave at him. "For everything you lose, you gain something. For everything you gain, you lose something else. Nothing is free."

If he had to be honest with himself, it mattered little to him if she accepts or not. He'll still be locked up anyway. She considered him for a moment, still gripping his goblet with that sour frown on her face. Rumpelstiltskin inwardly fumed his impatience as he chewed down his pitiful meal as best as he could. He could really, really use that water right about now but she kept weighing her decision and he knew opening his mouth at this very moment could blow it. All she gains would be a bit of entertainment; regardless if he lies, and all she loses would be an hour or so cooking him a real meal. A fair exchange. No sinister plots behind it at all. Harmless.

"One meal's enough?" Fiona said sharply, catching his gaze once more.

"Having enough – " he coughed lightly, bread scraping dryly down his throat. "- never stopped anyone from wanting more. Give me a hot meal a day, and I'll give you a story a day about what I knew of her."

"That wasn't what we first agreed to!"

"Ah, ah, aah!" He waved a finger sharply, rakish grin flashing despite himself. "You – didn't agree to anything! Now, I'm offering a new deal for the hassle."

Fiona eyed him coolly, goblet of water still out of reach, and Rumpelstiltskin waited. He pulled from memory what he hoped was a well meaning smile, but it probably turned out into something of a grimace. Being locked up in a cage for so many months erodes such things like smiling. Go figure.

"I'll pass," Fiona said bluntly, scraping the goblet through the bars before turning away without another word.

No. That will not do. He could practically taste a bowl of beef stew, fresh breads, and steamed vegetables; maybe even tall glass of ale to moisten his lips. He could hardly remember what his last real meal was! He wanted it; needed something... just something to make his wretched existence less chaffing. Just why did she want to know about the other one anyway? Ages have passed! Why does it matter?

And then a thought struck him.

"Wait –!" Rumpelstiltskin called out after her; goblet forgotten. She sighed her frustration and paused, turning to face him. "You want to know if she was better then you... am I right?"

Fiona visibly stiffened; only the barest flicker of emotion clouded her eyes. She said nothing, but Rumpelstiltskin knew he had hit the nail on the head. He's always had a particular talent for knowing just what people want. Everyone wants something, and there's nothing wrong in wanting, but usually everyone's better off just wanting and never getting. But that's the thing, isn't it? No one understands how wants aren't necessarily needs. Somethings are just straw and somethings are gold, and sometimes you just have to know the difference.

"Maybe she... caught your husbands eye in a way you didn't, hmm?" Rumpelstiltskin continued, knowing that right now is the perfect time to keep talking and run with it. "Was she more beautiful? Was she loved more? Was she respected, listened to?"

Fiona's silence was his only reply and somewhere in their filthy hovel, the sound of a dish clattered on the floor. She paid no attention; her eyes fixed on his.

"I'm sure Shrek's talked about her before... hard not to," he mused with a wistful sort of look, almost like coy admiration. "She was ... something. But he hasn't told you everything. I can tell you, you know. I gain nothing lying to you..." And this much was true. He's way more honest then people give him credit for. Now, tricking... well... that was a different matter.

Fiona arched a brow, obviously thinking it over, and Rumpelstiltskin waited. This was the deciding moment where the quill hovers over the dotted line. Then comes that small moment of doubt followed by a seething indignation that swells; and one thinks, 'Why not? I deserve this.' and sign their name away. And all of this happens in a matter of seconds that stretch on for an eternity! This was the part that he relished the most; lived for it even. It made his blood pump, his fingers jittery; hungry for the second the quill touches the parchment.

Fiona's brows furrowed again; going through the first stage of doubt. Do it.

Her eyes narrowed; shoulders straightening back... there's that boiling resentment. Do it.

Despite himself, Rumpelstiltskin gripped the bars to steady his hands; heartbeat loud in his ears. Just do it! You want this! Her lips parted, words on the verge of tumbling out and –

"Fiona!" Fiona jumped at the sound of her name hollered by her idiot husband from the open window of their home." Fergus used his diaper as a pinata! Again! How can such a wee thing make so much?"

Fiona spared him just one last glace, turned on her heel, and left. Just left.

As soon as the door swung shut, Rumpelstiltskin raged his frustration against the cage. Broke the plate over his knee. Smashed the goblet down onto the grimy floor. Screamed till his dry throat was sore. So damn close! It wasn't fair! He needed this! Wanted this! He just... just wants so much... These are the moments where he wishes that the magics worked for him. Where he could have written his own contract to his liking and signed himself away. When he had first agreed to a deal that won him the magic, liquid gold ink years ago... he had been tricked into believing that it would solve all his problems. All he had to do, was con others into signing their own contracts in return. But that's the problem with contracts...

The devil's in the details.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review.